


Burning Definition

by silentdroplets



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, Love, Love Bites, M/M, NSFW, Smut, just pure love, one of the most tedious but most satisfying fic i have written, they have sex in their hotel room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 05:21:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9585218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdroplets/pseuds/silentdroplets
Summary: The hotel room looks over the entirety of the city, the first of the night lights glowing in the dim shroud of evening cast over the buildings. The sun’s final goodbye to the sky is streaked across the clouds in splendid colours, and it is truly beautiful.But to Viktor, it is not the view outside that matters. What truly is beautiful is the man that stands in the shower now, hair slicked back with soap, skin smooth with gel.Yet, beautiful is but a definition. A simple definition cannot express the feelings Viktor has for Yuuri, the feeling of love and gratitude toward the man that had entered his life just a while back.He cannot have anyone snatching Yuuri away from him just like that.He ought to give Yuuri what he deserves.He ought to show the world who Yuuri belongs to, and who Viktor belongs to, too.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iamalivenow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamalivenow/gifts), [Noitratoxin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noitratoxin/gifts), [Yellow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellow/gifts).



What is life?

To Viktor, it means the spark, the little flame that ignites in his glacial, numb heart the moment he sets his eyes on the Japanese man leaping across the dance floor. Each sweep of his arm draws him closer; each tap of his foot shortens the gap that separates them so painfully from each other, and it is the look in their eyes that they know, in that very moment, that they are meant for each other.

It means the connection that clicks just seconds after their eyes meet, even if it is a fleeting moment, even if they move away from each other during the dance they share together - a secret only they understand.

It means the immense downpour of emotions and feelings - wrapped around each other, unravelling and bundling back and ravelling again as they find each other’s heart and hold it dear to them, like a treasure, but it is not a treasure, because it is only an object, and objects cannot define something as abstract, as special as the bonds that hold them together.

He doesn’t know how he has managed to reunite with the love of his life, but he is certain that it has been successful. He watches each twirl of the skater’s arm, the rise of his chest as he takes in a deep breath, the spray of powdery ice that shimmers for the split second it is thrown to the spotlight - and he sighs.

Is this love?

It definitely is.

The moment Yuuri lands the quadruple flip - splendidly, his posture perfect, blade slicing the ice beautifully - the surge of warmth runs up his spine once more, like the time when they met at the banquet. 

He definitely has to reward Yuuri for his hard work. Or rather, for the countless moments they’ve spent together, for making him feel as loved, as appreciated as he had made him feel during the entirety of the time they’ve been together.

But with what?  
  
He knows Yuuri doesn’t like all the attention out there. He’s afraid, anxious of the way everyone looks at him - whether good or bad - and every time Viktor takes his hand to clasp it in his grip, he feels the racing pulse of Yuuri’s heart in the gaslights of the rink. It’s almost like he can feel the crashing waterfall of thoughts running through Yuuri’s mind, rushing on and on and on.

Of course, he’s surprised that he didn’t mind the kiss in front of international television after his free skate. He would want to do that again, but he knows his luck won’t always go on. Yuuri might quite possibly have a breakdown under the pressure of being watched a second time.

So he racks his brain for a suitable reward.

After the award-giving ceremony, after the bear-hug that he gives Yuuri and the little whisper of “ _moya zolotse_ ” into his ear, Yuuri’s dragged away from him by interviewers and flashing cameras and microphones being shoved his way here and there. Viktor has his fair share of interviews to answer, too, but even after he’s done with them Yuuri’s still being gushed over by fans who appeared from who knows _where_ , and he can’t help but feel a slight pinch of annoyance.

It starts off small, just pulling at the skin of his tolerance, but it goes total haywire, twisting and tugging, the moment one group of fans decides to pull him further away from the rink to force him into hugs and - would you believe it - kisses. 

Pecks on the cheeks, forehead, and one goes as far as to kiss his hand - like a worshipper, taking off his ring to savour the skin there.

He belongs to me, Viktor thinks, fuming, feeling the hairs on his neck stand in irritation. How dare they kiss my Yuuri?  
  
More importantly, how dare they take off his _ring_?

Objects may not have the definition to the complexity of love, but these rings are a symbol - a part they have sacrificed to each other to mark the occasion in which they have understood the love they hold in their hearts.

He nearly storms over to snatch the ring out of their filthy, _filthy_ hands to place it back where it belongs - on Yuuri’s, on his _love’s_ right ring finger. He goes for the second option, though - to cheer silently as Yuuri pulls the ring back from them and excuses himself hastily, the slightest hint of a glare piercing into them as easily as a sterilised needle works through skin.

_Do not ever touch him ever again._

When Yuuri walks back to the rink, giddy from the sudden throng of fans and interviews rushing at him all at once, he is greeted by the stern look on Viktor’s face. He sees his dark, lowered eyes gleaming at him, predator locking on its prey, and rushes into his arms.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be dragged off like that!” he gushes, burying his face in an armful of coat and the few strands of dog fur embedded in the cotton of the coat. “The fans went overboard- I-I tried to push them away-“  
  
“I know.”  
  
Yuuri looks up to see a smiling Viktor - but it isn’t the usual smile he would have expected to see. He sees the raging fire behind the forced upturned lips - itching to devour anything in its path, anything that seeks to challenge its intense heat, anything that isn’t intimidated by the glowing hot carbon burnt to ashes by the energy it roars.

The brightest flames burn blue, after all. He sees it clearly in those eyes of his. They are like the gentle morning breeze, the tiny laughs of a newborn, but there are flames behind them.

He stiffens, feeling these tempestuous ropes of fire bore into his neck. Yuuri knows how furious Viktor is right now.

“V-Viktor, let’s go back to the hotel now, shall we?” he croaks out, and he is surprised at how easily Viktor agrees. As they turn to walk back, however, he catches sight of the deadly glow of his eyes, and he knows that somehow, somewhere in his heart, even after the apology and escape from the fans, Viktor is _seething_.

He’d have to be cautious about what he does.

Neither of them say a thing when they get into the taxi, but Viktor slides his hand across the seat between them and laces his fingers through Yuuri’s hand, which is resting on his lap. Yuuri jolts in surprise, glancing down at where their rings clack with every movement, before melting into his touch.

They stay like that through the ride back to the hotel.

Yuuri steps out first, burying his hands into the pockets of his coat as he waits for Viktor to pay the driver. When he’s done they walk up together, silent, wordless, to their room, slotting the card through the sensor and opening the heavy door with a click.

It’s a pretty decent room, the sheets and blankets and pillows wonderfully soft. The floor is carpeted - which chafes against Yuuri’s sore feet, and he doesn’t really appreciate that, but the view is what matters most.

The hotel room looks over the entirety of the city, the first of the night lights glowing in the dim shroud of evening cast over the buildings. The sun’s final goodbye to the sky is streaked across the clouds in splendid colours, and it is truly beautiful.

But to Viktor, it is not the view outside that matters. What truly is beautiful is the man that stands in the shower now, hair slicked back with soap, skin smooth with gel.

Yet, beautiful is but a definition. A simple definition cannot express the feelings Viktor has for Yuuri, the feeling of love and gratitude toward the man that had entered his life just a while back.

He cannot have anyone snatching Yuuri away from him just like that.

He ought to give Yuuri what he deserves.

He ought to show the world who Yuuri belongs to, and who Viktor belongs to, too.

When Yuuri pads out of the shower, a warm robe around his body, Viktor pulls him to the bed and they lie down together. They don’t talk for a while, just clasping their hands together and watching each other’s eyes.

Yuuri is the first to break the silence, turning so that he faces the ceiling.

“Viktor,” he whispers, not daring to let his voice overtake the comfort of peace in the room, “I’m sorry about what happened just now.”

“It’s not your fault, Yuuri. Why are you apologising?”  
  
Yuuri shifts uncomfortably.

“You seemed pretty upset about the fans, and I felt really bad for not trying to resist them until the end.”

Viktor reaches forward, pulling Yuuri’s face towards him.

“I was upset, all right,” he admits, brushing a thumb over his lips. “So I want them to know that you belong to me.”  
  
He moves forward and nuzzles his face in Yuuri’s neck.  
  
“I want them to know who you belong to.”

He catches a small patch of skin between his teeth and sucks, feeling the pulse underneath picking up as Yuuri gasps. It blooms, the petals of the mark spreading across the pale skin like new rosebuds in the spring.

The start of something new.

“Are we really going with this?” he hears Yuuri ask, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he speaks. “I mean, they’ll see-“

Viktor parts with his neck and places a finger on his mouth.

“Exactly,” he whispers, his voice reaching a low only Yuuri understands. Like a note that synchronises with the beats. “Let them know that we belong to each other.”

He kisses his brow, his forehead, his temple, trailing his lips across his ears, glancing across the fully-bloomed rose on his neck, swiping his tongue over his collarbone.

“This is also for all you’ve done for me, so relax.”

Yuuri nods. His eyes cloud over with lust; he lifts Viktor’s head up and admires the plush of his lips, swollen from sucking at skin and bone before kissing him. It’s slow, warm, passionate - Yuuri runs his teeth across Viktor’s lower lip, swallowing the moan that resounds so _beautifully_ from Viktor’s throat, savouring its rich taste. 

Viktor’s fingers slide their way up Yuuri’s robe and undoes the clasp, slipping his hand into the opening that is open for him and him only, feeling the taut muscles under his probing fingers. He finds what he is looking for and pinches it, ever so slightly, and smiles when Yuuri gasps.

“Are you sure we can do this now-“

“Trust me.”

The command makes Yuuri jump, but he relaxes all the same. He lets Viktor search him, searching for answers that might answer his question, laying bare all he has for Viktor, because he knows he can trust him.

Trust, again, isn’t a good enough definition for how much Yuuri believes in Viktor, isn’t enough to express feelings, because it is merely a five-lettered word, but it does not matter. As long as they understand each other, nothing does matter anymore, really.

Yuuri really just wants to be with Viktor all the way, no matter what they do.

More roses bloom, spread their petals across the melting sheet of snow they are born from, marking their rightful place on Yuuri’s skin as Viktor’s lips trail along his chest. He closes his eyes, revelling in the feeling of Viktor taking charge, taking him fully into his embrace. He feels each rose sending a pulse of heat down, down his spine, pooling around his hips, gathering in between his thighs, and he feels the slick wetness that drips from beneath.

He needs something to satisfy the hunger that’s burning from within him. He can hear the crackle, feel the heat of the fire that’s roaring bright, and he wants it to quieten.

Viktor sense him trembling under him and lifts the robe, undoing the cotton belt and casting it aside, leaving Yuuri clad in nothing but his boxers, which are straining. He taps on the elastic band, glancing up at him.

Yuuri nods, swallowing, trying not to let his voice tremble when he breathes a shaky “yes”.

The feeling when Viktor pulls the clothing that holds his cock back away is breathtaking - quite literally, and Yuuri has to fight back the gasp that nearly rips out from his throat. It stands free in Viktor’s grip, throbbing with need.

Viktor looks down at the beauty that is Yuuri.

This is the man who had breathed life into him, waved a torch through the darkness in his freezing heart, given him the freedom to love. He cannot express how grateful he is, how much he really, really loves him.

Yuuri is squirming in his touch, subconsciously trying to thrust himself into his fingers. Viktor lets go, leaving him panting with want and _desire_ , but yet, there is a sort of confusion to his eyes.

“Wh-What are we going to do now?” he asks, staring down at his erection, then glancing at Viktor. “How are we going to do this?”

As much as Viktor is set on giving the best he can to Yuuri - give him what he wants, paying him back for the wonders he has been shown - he isn’t too sure about the dynamics of the whole thing. Although he is vaguely familiar with the actions, the different ways to go about this, he isn’t sure whether he’ll hurt Yuuri - probably even scar him, if he went the rough way.

When he looks back at Yuuri, he sees the blush that glows from his cheeks, travelling down to his neck, where delicate petals that mark the skin there connect the ends of the pale pink flushing across. He sees the sweet, brown eyes that beckon for him to _come closer_ , to just accompany him, despite the situation down there. He sees nothing but his Yuuri. 

His, his, his.

He doesn’t answer Yuuri’s question, just leans forward to kiss him on the lips. It’s, again, slow and languid, and when Viktor breaks away he smiles at him.

“Trust me,” he whispers, running his fingers up and down Yuuri’s hip. “I won’t hurt you.”

Yuuri lets his arms fall to the sides, looking down at Viktor, eyes dark with lust. He knows Viktor wouldn’t. He knows, but he nods all the same. He knows.

Viktor feels proud that he is the one whom Yuuri trusts - places himself in his hands, willingly letting him do whatever he wants to him.

He’d have to make this the best experience Yuuri’s ever gotten.

He starts trailing his fingers up the shaft and Yuuri squeaks, his hands flying to his mouth because it feels too strange, too sensitive, but so _good_ all at once. He squeezes as he strokes up and down, pressing a thumb into the swollen head and feeling the precome dripping from it. He can’t believe it - he’s barely touched him and he’s already so _wet._

It makes his heart throb just a bit harder in the pride he feels.

“Does this feel okay, Yuuri?” he asks. Yuuri stammers out a word of agreement, squeezing his eyes shut in the immense pleasure that’s overwhelming him.

He continues pumping in slow, agonising strokes, enjoying the feeling of velvety skin under his fingertips.

“V-Viktor,” Yuuri gasps, trying his best to control himself. “I-I know this s-sounds absurd, but-“

He squeaks as Viktor twists his wrist, sending another pulse of pure ecstasy shooting up his spine, but yet, it doesn’t seem _enough_.

“-I want you.”

Viktor stops moving and stares at Yuuri. He watches the blush dusted across his face darken, his eyes darting to the side, and the intensity, the unexpectedness of the whole thing, hits his own growing arousal.

He smiles.

“Where?” he whispers, ghosting his fingers over the dip of Yuuri’s hamstrings, and he hears Yuuri inhale sharply. “Where do you want me, Yuuri?”

He watches as Yuuri flushes an even deeper shade of red. He loves watching him flustered, watching the whole beauty of him. 

Yuuri takes a deep breath.

“In me,” he hisses out, his eyes darkening, pupils blown wide. “I want you in me.”

Viktor’s eyes widen.

He has definitely never seen Yuuri this confident before - staring right into his eyes, reading his every move, his every thought and action.

This demanding.

His own cock is straining against his pants, chafing and needy and almost painful. Separated from Yuuri by layers of clothing and diminishing self-restraint.

He smiles once more.

“All right, then,” he tells Yuuri. He pulls away from him - feeling him tense up from the lack of attention and soft, warm skin - and reaches for the white bottle that sits on the desk near them. He squeezes the lotion onto his hand and shifts back, his other free hand lacing through Yuuri’s, gripping it hard.

The lotion is cool on the heat of Viktor’s fingers as it is lathered all around.

He leans forward again to kiss Yuuri - long, hard and fiery. Tongues fighting for dominance, playfully teasing lips and teeth.

And then Viktor’s pressing a finger into Yuuri’s ass, prodding at the little grooves and bumps, sliding it into the little pucker and reaching into the furthest, darkest part of him. Yuuri jolts, tightening his hold on Viktor’s hand.

He knows it stings from the way Yuuri clenches up around him. But that is what makes the pleasure worthwhile - it makes it whole, because pleasure must have a balance.

When he is sure Yuuri has gotten used to the digit pumping slowly, carefully, in and out of him, Viktor pushes another finger in, stretching him just a bit more. Yuuri tries to keep his breathing stable - taking shaky breaths as though it _hurts_ to inhale, exhale properly. It feels so good, despite the pain when Viktor stretches him further with three fingers and he’s desperate for more.

More of _Viktor_.

And that is what drives him to speak in his daze, startling Viktor, his cerulean eyes - as vast as the sea, clouded over by a storm of lust - glowing as he pulls his fingers away, undoes his belt and pulls his pants down, revealing what is beneath the layers that painfully separate them both.

It hurts, almost, to touch his cock in slow, careful strokes. It hurts, almost, to put friction on it after so long without direct stimulation, with only the tease of Yuuri’s words, harsh breaths, little moans. It hurts, almost, to try to satisfy the need that throbs through.

He guides the fat head towards Yuuri’s entrance and rubs against it in slow, circular motions. He stops for a bit, taking in the sight that is Yuuri.

This is the man of his dreams, the one who had stolen his heart, the one whom his life revolves around.

He really, really wants to give him the best. It is not just a mere desire - it is a raging fire that seeks its fuel, seeks for its essence.

Yuuri squirms under his touch and tries to push back against Viktor.

“Viktor, please, don’t tease me anymore, I can’t-“  
  
And he’s pushing into Yuuri, biting his lip in a valiant effort to keep himself from thrusting in, feeling the heat echo into his cock and up his spine. He can’t believe it - how he really needs to be in Yuuri, how he really wants to satisfy the both of them, because he belongs to Yuuri as much as Yuuri belongs to him.

Yuuri moans, his eyes dark and searching - searching for an answer to nothing. Nothing, because everything has been solved, been answered by Viktor - the love of his very life, and he _is_ satisfied.

When Viktor is completely buried in Yuuri, he stops for a few moments. They both take sharp breaths, watching each other, revelling in the feeling of being so close, so connected, so _complete_.

How wonderful it is, Viktor thinks, to be able to be so deep in love with the man who has given him everything he’s been searching for his entire life. How privileged, how lucky.

He wants to treat Yuuri as gently as possibly could - after all, he deserves it.

However, there is nothing _gentle_ about the way he pulls back and _snaps_ his hips in. They both groan, the heat spiralling into violent whirlwinds that blow them apart and glue them back together, stars bursting into flame and light and _new life_.

He can barely hear the syllables of his name tripping off Yuuri’s tongue like a mantra, in an exquisite velvety voice as he slams into him. He can barely feel anything else other than Yuuri trembling under him and the heat that keeps scorching at the ends of their wits, burning and burning and burning. He can barely feel anything else other than _love_.

Yuuri’s cries fill the room as Viktor drives into him so hard that he rocks forward with the motion, his fingers reaching for Viktor’s face and cupping it in his hands, finding their way down his back and clawing at it. Harsh breaths trickle out of his mouth, moans and things that aren’t Viktor’s name - gasps of _yes_ and _harder_ and other tiny groans that rip their way out.

And Viktor complies, giving him what he wants, because _he is here to give him what he deserves_. 

Yuuri is the love of his life, and he is going to do anything to satisfy him.

They belong to _each other_.

He slams harder, harder and harder into Yuuri and their groans both mingle, mix into a symphony of roars of flames and heat coiled into starbursts and the universe all at once. He leans forward and kisses him - velvety smooth, melting, warm, and for a brief moment, he slows down, thrusting slowly and carefully as they sink in the feeling of being together.

Then his hips snap back into action and drives harder in, wanting to hear the pleased gasps and moans out of Yuuri, an affirmation that he is doing well. The white-hot feeling of stars that collide into each other, heightening voices that rise as one, the heat of everything crashing onto them all at once, jumping into the sea together.

Their voices reach a high and bind together, entwining around each other like seductive vines as they come together,

 

~

 

“I hope that was good for you,” Viktor whispers in the dark, finding Yuuri’s right hand and lacing his fingers together so their rings touch again, glittering as one entity.

“It was.”

Viktor smiles.

The definition of something, anything, be it a feeling or an object, isn’t enough, because it cannot express how happy he is to have given Yuuri the time of his life, given him what he’s deserved for a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this.
> 
> This took me quite some time to write, and since this is the first time I have ventured into detailed smut, I feel kind of embarrassed about it. But nonetheless, I am quite happy with how this turned out. Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> (sorry if it didn't meet your expectations)
> 
> (also come talk to me on tumblr if you want)
> 
> silentdroplets, signing off.


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